Ln  iv. ©f  ill.  Library 
51 


©fj*  (Doz*  8mt%r  (Efynatmaa 


No.  7 

A  Christmas  Gift 
T.  W.  Hall 


5tye  (§azt  farnttyn  GJIjriatntaa 

A  series  of  stories  by  well-known  American 
authors,  written  especially  for  the  Christmas  season. 
Ten  volumes,  uniformly  bound  in  ooze  leather, 
boxed,  price,  per  volume,  75  cents. 

No.  1.  Santa  Claus  and  Little  Billee.  By 
John  Kendrick  Bangs . 

No.  2.  Christmas  Roses.  By  Anne  O’ Hagan. 

No.  3.  Dalosa  Bonbright’s  Christmas  Gift. 

By  Grace  MacGowan  Cooke . 

No.  4.  The  Night  Before  Christmas.  By  Lil¬ 
lian  Bennett  Thompson. 

No.  5.  Next  Christmas.  By  Byron  E.  Veatch. 
No.  6.  Santa  Claus  on  the  Beach.  By  Robert 
Dunn . 

No.  7.  A  Christmas  Gift.  By  T.  IV.  Hall. 

No.  8.  Their  Christmas.  By  Lee  Bertrand. 

No.  9.  Peter's  Christmas  Present.  By  Anne 
Storey  Allen. 

No.  10.  When  Santa  Claus  Was  Lost.  By 
Bertram  Lebhar. 

All  the  volumes  in  this  series  may  be  had  in  uni¬ 
form  style  and  binding,  at  the  same  price  at  which 
this  volume  was  purchased. 

BROWNE  &  HOWELL  CO.,  Publishers,  Chicago. 


The  Ooze  Leather  Christmas  Series 


A  OII|ristmaa  (Sift 


BY 

T.  W.  HALL 


CHICAGO 

BROWNE  &  HOWELL  CO. 


1914 


COPYRIGHT,  1914 

BY  BROWNE  &  HOWELL  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved 

Original  Copyright  by  The  Frank  A.  Munsey  Co. 


VAIL -BALLOU  COMPANY 

BINGHAMTON  AND  NEW  YORK 


A  Christmas  dift 


i 

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t 

J>, 

0 

If 

tl 

< 

i 

A 

-t 

N 


A  Tale  of  the  Love  of  Tag  12  B  of  the 
White  Mountain  Apaches 

I 


THE  arrival  of  Lieutenant  Bob 
Roberts  and  his  bride  was  some¬ 
thing  beyond  the  ordinary  experience 
of  the  garrison  at  Fort  Chiricahua. 
The  four  troops  of  the  Twelfth  United 
States  Cavalry  quartered  in  the  rec¬ 
tangle  of  buildings  named  for  the 
great  war  tribe  of  the  Apaches  were  sit¬ 
uated  too  far  from  the  routes  of  civ- 


[7] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 

ilized  travel  to  have  much  in  common 
with  the  rest  of  the  world.  Life  was 
an  incessant  round  of  duty  for  the 
preservation  of  the  White  Mountain 
tribe  of  Apaches,  of  guard  duty  for  the 
preservation  of  themselves.  Reveille 
woke  them  and  taps  sent  them  to  bed. 
The  buckboard  and  the  mail  came  one 
day  and  departed  the  next.  The 
newspapers  came  with  regular  irregu¬ 
larity.  The  paymaster  appeared  every 
other  month  with  his  shining  gold  and 
his  oft  repeated  stories.  Otherwise 
there  was  little  or  nothing  to  relieve 
the  monotony  of  existence  in  the  pretty 
mountain  army  post  in  Arizona. 

As  for  brides,  none  had  been  seen  in 

m 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 

Chiricahua  in  centuries — at  least,  so 
the  ladies  of  the  garrison  would  have 
told  you.  There  were  not  very  many 
of  these,  but,  such  as  they  were,  they 
were  far  in  excess  of  the  unmarried  of¬ 
ficers.  Of  these  unmarried  officers, 
but  two  were  eligible.  One  of  these, 
Bob  Roberts,  had  deliberately  gone 
back  East  on  leave,  and  had  married  a 
girl  he  had  been  engaged  to  for  so 
many  years  it  shouldn’t  have  counted 
for  an  engagement  at  all.  The  other 
was  the  chum  and  West  Point  class¬ 
mate  of  the  aforesaid  Roberts,  Lieu¬ 
tenant  Ned  Savage,  but  his  case  was 
quite  hopeless.  He  was  a  confirmed 
bachelor. 


[p] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


When  the  bride  of  Bob  Roberts  ar¬ 
rived  late  one  November  evening,  the 
event  threw  Fort  Chiricahua  into  a 
state  of  active  eruption.  Plans  had 
been  made  for  great  festivities.  Sav¬ 
age  gave  up  his  bachelor  quarters  for 
the  reception  of  his  chum  “and  family” 
of  one  slip  of  a  girl.  The  ladies  of  the 
garrison  put  the  place  in  order,  much 
to  the  agitation  of  Savage,  who  had 
neglected  to  tear  up  all  his  letters. 
The  men  of  the  various  troops,  who 
each  and  all  adored  the  bridegroom, 
decorated  the  little  house  with  ever¬ 
greens  and  streamers  of  bunting.  The 
post  band — a  purely  volunteer  organ¬ 
ization — learned  a  new  piece.  The 
[io] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 

band  was  a  necessity.  It  played  for 
the  garrison  hops.  At  these  hops  it 
usually  had  a  better  time  than  it  kept. 
But  all  that  was  in  the  nature  of  things 
in  the  army  before  the  Spanish  War — 
in  the  old  days  when  men  were  gray 
headed  before  they  became  captains. 

Considering  all  this  preparation,  it 
was  distinctly  disagreeable  of  Roberts 
to  make  his  appearance  with  his  bride 
late  at  night.  There  were  those  mean 
enough  to  say  that  he  purposely  halted 
his  ambulance  ten  miles  out  of  post  to 
wait  for  dark.  He  surely  would,  the 
elder  ladies  declared,  if  he  had  any 
sense  and  his  bride  were  pretty  enough 
to  be  worthy  of  the  regimental  family 


u,  Ot  ILL  LIB 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 

of  the  T welf  th.  They  had  been  brides 
themselves,  and  they  knew  from  a  long 
experience  that  a  woman  does  not  look 
her  best  after  an  eighty-mile  ride  in  an 
ambulance. 

So  when  Roberts  and  his  wife  ar¬ 
rived,  the  band  played  its  new  air;  the 
colonel  gave  the  well  veiled  bundle  of 
femininity  that  hung  timidly  on  Rob¬ 
erts’  arm  an  official  welcome  and  de¬ 
parted  at  once  with  his  usual  good 
sense;  the  ladies  peered  from  their 
piazzas  the  whole  length  of  the  line; 
the  men  cheered  with  a  will — and  no 
one  saw  the  newcomer  that  night  save 
Savage,  and  he  wouldn’t  tell. 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Roberts 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


made  her  appearance.  Actually, 
dressed  in  a  tailor  made  gown  of  a  fit 
that  was  a  revelation  to  all  Chiricahua, 
she  stepped  out  on  to  the  piazza  of 
Savage’s  home,  took  a  breath  of  the 
pure,  bracing  Arizona  air,  gave  a 
glance  at  the  multicolored  rocks  of  the 
hills  and  canyons  before  her,  and  the 
forest  clad  mountains  in  the  distance, 
and  uttered  a  little  exclamation  of  de¬ 
light. 

She  was  beautiful. 

That  was  the  unanimous  verdict  of 
Chiricahua,  and  every  eye  in  the  garri¬ 
son  was  fastened  upon  her.  Even  the 
solitary  prisoner  in  the  guard  house 
squinted  through  the  iron  bars  of  his 

I >J]  . 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


cell  at  her  and  wished  he  had  been 
good,  and  could  go  and  get  a  nearer 
view.  Even  the  young  ladies  admit¬ 
ted  the  fact,  and  wondered  if  her  com¬ 
plexion  was  real  or  of  the  kind  that  is 
carried  in  a  bag.  Their  elders  re¬ 
marked,  “She’s  a  thoroughbred,”  and 
went  back  to  their  coffee. 


UA 


II 


BUT  there  were  eyes  other  than 
those  rightfully  belonging  to  the 
garrison  that  viewed  the  beauty  of  the 
bride  and  appreciated  it  profoundly. 
A  young  buck  Apache,  with  a  pair  of 
moccasins  for  sale,  was  strolling  up 
the  gravel  path  in  front  of  officers’ 
row.  He  was  walking  with  the  usual 
slow,  stealthy  stride  of  his  race,  and 
appeared  almost  at  the  elbow  of  the 
young  wife  before  she  saw  him. 

An  Indian  was  an  unaccustomed 
sight  to  her.  She  gave  a  little  shriek 

l>5] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


that  brought  her  great,  handsome  hus¬ 
band  promptly  to  her  side.  He  had 
donned  his  uniform  preparatory  to  re¬ 
porting  at  orderly  hour  for  duty.  At 
sight  of  him  the  bride  blushed  and 
smiled  at  her  own  fright.  Surely  he, 
this  wonderful  “he”  who  was  hers,  was 
protection  enough  against  all  the  In¬ 
dians  in  the  world. 

The  Apache  noted  the  little  shriek 
and  was  pleased  thereat.  She  had 
seemed  so  beautiful  that  he  had  not 
dreamed  such  as  he  could  have  any  ef¬ 
fect  upon  her.  To  him  the  next  best 
thing  to  inspiring  love  is  the  ability  to 
inspire  fear,  and  he  smiled  with  quiet 
delight  as  he  fastened  his  bright  black 
[7d] 


I 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


eyes  upon  the  vision  of  loveliness  be¬ 
fore  him.  Then  he  turned  slowly  to 
the  east,  raised  his  hand  above  his  head 
with  two  fingers  pointed  to  the  sky, 
and  slowly  waved  his  forearm  back 
and  forth  from  north  to  south. 

“What  does  he  mean,  dearest?” 
asked  the  little  woman. 

Roberts  laughed. 

“That’s  sign  language  he’s  using, 
sweetheart,”  answered  he.  “He  is 
saying  that  you  are  as  beautiful  as  the 
morning.” 

The  Apache  turned  solemnly  and 
looked  at  Roberts. 

“Sicagi?”  he  asked,  pointing  to  the 
bride. 

07] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


Roberts  nodded  his  head  affirma¬ 
tively. 

“He  is  asking  if  you  are  my  sweet¬ 
heart.” 

“Tell  him  yes,’  ”  said  the  bride. 

“I  did,”  answered  Roberts. 

Laughingly  the  pair  turned  back 
into  the  evergreen  decorated  cottage 
as  a  bell  announced  breakfast.  But 
the  young  buck  stood  long  at  the  open 
doorway,  gazing  in.  Finally  a  hand 
touched  him  on  the  shoulder.  He 
turned  and  saw  another  officer  stand¬ 
ing  by  his  side. 

“Ugasha,”  said  the  officer  almost 
fiercely.  It  was  the  Apache  word  for 
“go.” 

[iS] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


For  a  moment  the  young  buck  hesi¬ 
tated.  The  two  men,  Apache  and 
white,  looked  fiercely  into  each  other’s 
eyes.  Then  the  Indian  turned  and 
walked  away.  The  officer  entered  the 
cottage. 

Young  Mrs.  Roberts  had  been  in 
Uncle  Sam’s  post  at  Chiricahua  some¬ 
thing  less  than  twelve  hours;  and  al¬ 
ready  two  men  other  than  her  husband 
had  been  on  the  point  of  fighting  be¬ 
cause  of  her. 


[/P] 


Ill 


THE  festivities  in  honor  of  the 
new  bride  proceeded  in  due  or¬ 
der.  There  were  lunches,  dinners, 
dances,  and  private  theatricals.  Mrs. 
Bob  Roberts  was  received  into  the 
arms  of  the  Twelfth  with  honors  befit¬ 
ting  the  occasion.  When  horseback 
rides  were  suggested,  Ned  Savage  was 
now  quite  willing  to  go.  He  even  en¬ 
gineered  a  rabbit  hunt  with  an  impro¬ 
vised  pack  of  hounds.  As  one  of  the 
young  ladies  expressed  it,  he  “sudden¬ 
ly  came  to  life.”  Such  was  the  effect 
[20] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 

of  the  advent  of  the  pretty  bride. 
Even  the  gray  haired  colonel,  now 
twelve  years  a  widower,  threw  away 
an  old  uniform  that  was  the  despair  of 
the  regiment,  had  his  beard  trimmed 
twice  a  week,  and  played  the  gallant 
to  the  young  woman. 

Nor  did  all  this  adulation  turn  the 
little  woman’s  head.  She  was  as  sweet 
and  simple,  as  unaffected,  as  she  had 
been  while  a  girl  in  her  Eastern  home. 
She  liked  everybody,  and  everybody 
liked  her.  Even  the  women  failed  to 
fan  up  sufficient  jealousy  to  start  a  reg¬ 
imental  quarrel. 

It  was  only  in  the  White  Mountain 
Apache  camp,  down  in  the  valley,  that 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


the  members  of  her  own  sex  waxed 
wroth  at  her.  The  brave  young  war¬ 
rior,  Nakitano,  had  become  moon  mad 
for  love  of  the  white  squaw.  He  who 
was  fleetest  of  foot,  and  surest  of  aim 
in  his  tribe,  he  who  was  its  best  hunter, 
he  who  feared  neither  the  great  bear 
of  the  hills  nor  the  white  soldiers’  gun- 
that-is-carried-on-wheels,  had  become 
a  moping  solitary,  responding  not  to 
the  wiles  or  the  smiles  of  the  most  be¬ 
witching  maidens  in  the  tribe.  The 
old  men  of  the  village  frowned,  the 
young  men  sneered,  and  their  sisters 
looked  sullen. 

One  morning  when  Mrs.  Roberts, 
now  living  in  her  own  home,  after  re- 
\22\ 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 

turning  Savage’s  cottage  to  him  per¬ 
fumed  with  the  fragrance  of  her  van¬ 
ished  self,  went  to  her  front  door  to 
water  the  flowers,  she  found  on  the 
door  step  a  pair  of  tiny  beaded  mocca¬ 
sins.  She  ran  with  them  to  Bob. 

“Look,”  she  said,  “I  have  had  a  pres¬ 
ent.”  Then  she  tried  them  on.  They 
fitted  like  a  glove. 

“Why,  whom  do  you  suppose  they 
are  from4?”  she  asked. 

“From  the  Indian  who  thinks  you  as 
beautiful  as  the  morning,  of  course,” 
replied  her  husband. 

“But  how  could  he  know  my  size1?” 
she  wondered. 

“Measured  the  impression  of  your 

[*?] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 

shoe  somewhere.  You  would  have  to 
use  your  wings — which  are  sprouting 
daily — if  you  wished  to  keep  an  In¬ 
dian  from  knowing  the  size  of  your 
feet.” 

And  then,  for  the  first  time,  Mrs. 
Roberts  became  conscious  of  the  atten¬ 
tions  of  the  young  buck  she  had  met 
that  first  morning  of  her  arrival.  In¬ 
deed,  when  they  walked  to  the  front 
door,  a  moment  or  two  later,  there  he 
was  himself,  standing  patiently  on  the 
gravel  walk  with  his  customary  pair  of 
moccasins  for  sale.  His  eyes  danced 
with  delight  when  he  saw  his  gift  on 
the  feet  of  the  beautiful  white  woman. 
He  pointed  to  himself  first,  then  to  the 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 

moccasins,  then  to  her.  Afterwards  he 
pointed  again  to  himself. 

“Nakitano  —  Nakitano,”  he  re¬ 
peated. 

“He  wants  you  to  understand  that 
his  name  is  Nakitano,  and  that  he  gave 
them  to  you,”  said  Roberts. 

“So  that  is  his  name,”  she  said  mu¬ 
singly. 

“His  tribal  name,”  continued  Rob¬ 
erts.  Then  the  young  lieutenant 
walked  to  the  Apache  and  looked  at 
the  brass  tag  hanging  from  the  latter’s 
waist. 

“Officially,”  continued  Roberts, 
turning  to  his  wife,  “he  is  Pa-ce-nal- 
suce  Na-ki-sa-ta,  Half  Circle  B.” 

l>5] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


“Which  means'?”  said  she. 

“Tag  12  B  of  the  White  Mountain 
Apaches.” 

“Tag  12  B”  considered  the  attention 
he  was  receiving  from  the  young  wife 
encouraging.  There  was  not  a  day 
that  he  did  not  visit  the  fort  to  take  a 
look  at  her,  and  sometimes  he  would 
remain  hanging  around  her  home  for 
hours  at  a  time.  Not  a  week  passed 
that  he  did  not  leave  some  present  for 
her  in  the  semi-mysterious  manner  that 
he  had  left  the  moccasins,  slipping  by 
the  sentinels  at  night  in  order  to  place 
them  at  her  door  step. 

One  morning  she  found  on  her  door 
step  the  bleeding  claws  of  a  grizzly 
[2d] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


bear,  and  almost  fainted  at  the  sight. 
She  did  not  understand,  but  her  hus¬ 
band  did.  So  did  Savage.  The 
young  Indian  had  slain  the  bear  to 
show  his  prowess  and  had  left  the 
claws  at  her  door  to  express  his  love. 
If  she  should  string  the  claws  into  a 
necklace  for  him,  he  would  know  that 
his  love  was  returned.  The  matter 
had  gone  quite  far  enough. 

“Better  let  me  warn  him  off,”  said 
Savage. 

“Isn’t  that  rather  my  business?” 
asked  Roberts,  with  a  smile. 

“All  right,”  Savage  replied.  “But 
you  know  what  these  imps  are.  To 
anger  him  might  mean — ” 

l>7] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


“In  that  case  it  ought  to  be  my  fu¬ 
neral,  not  yours,”  Roberts  broke  in. 
Then  he  laughed  and  slapped  his  chum 
on  the  back. 

That  day  “Tag  12  B”  was  brought 
into  the  post  by  a  guard,  and  officially 
warned  to  keep  away  from  it  in  the  fu¬ 
ture  by  Lieutenant  Roberts,  in  the 
name  of  the  commandant  of  the  garri¬ 
son. 

When  we  heard  the  order,  Nakitano 
gave  one  look  of  hatred  at  Roberts, 
slipped  his  hand  into  his  shirt  with  the 
easy  grace  of  a  panther,  drew  forth  a 
hunting  knife,  and  silently,  with  one 
swift  spring  forward,  drove  it  into  the 
officer’s  heart.  Before  the  guard  could 
!>*] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


gasp  his  astonishment,  he,  too,  had 
received  a  gash  in  his  firing  arm, 
and  Nakitano  was  flying  towards  the 
nearest  foothills  with  the  speed  of  a 
deer. 


I>P] 


IV 


FOUR  years  had  passed  over  the 
garrison  of  Fort  Chiricahua. 
The  Twelfth  was  nearing  the  end  of 
its  turn  at  duty  in  Arizona.  For 
months  not  a  day  had  passed  that  the 
garrison,  from  colonel  down  to  the 
rawest  recruit,  had  not  expected  orders 
to  move.  Every  one  was  anxious  to 
go,  except  the  civilian  employees. 
Among  these  the  one  who  was  most  af¬ 
fected  at  the  prospect  of  a  change  was 
a  clerk  in  the  quartermaster’s  depart¬ 
ment.  The  clerk  was  Mrs.  Roberts. 
[30] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


The  widow  of  the  dead  lieutenant  had 
never  left  the  post  where  her  husband 
was  buried.  Her  father  had  lost  what 
little  money  he  had,  and  she  had  found 
herself  face  to  face  with  the  world  with 
but  the  small  pension  of  a  lieutenant’s 
widow  to  support  her  and  the  little  son 
who  came  into  the  world  soon  after  his 
father’s  death.  That  was  why  the 
colonel,  tender  old  man  that  he  was, 
had  found  a  place  for  her  as  clerk  in 
the  office  of  the  post  quartermaster. 
She  had  never  moved  from  the  first 
home  that  had  been  provided  for  her 
in  the  army.  By  common  consent  that 
house  was  hers.  But  the  advent  of  a 
new  garrison  might  change  matters. 

I >] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 

She  might  even  lose  the  position  that 
had  enabled  her  to  live  in  moderate 
comfort  among  the  only  army  friends 
she  had. 

In  vain  did  the  colonel  try  to  assure 
her  that  he  would  so  arrange  things 
that  she  would  be  provided  for  by  the 
new  garrison.  In  vain  did  he  promise 
that  so  soon  as  he  could  he  would  find 
her  a  place,  if  they  did  not.  She  went 
to  bed  weeping  nearly  every  night  of 
that  long  period  of  expectancy;  and 
often,  during  her  labors  at  her  desk,  the 
genial  quartermaster  saw  her  pretty 
lip  curl  as  she  stifled  back  a  sob.  In 
vain  did  Ned  Savage  try  to  cheer  her 
up.  He  was  a  bungler  at  that  sort  of 

[>] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 

work,  and  it  usually  ended  by  his  ac¬ 
companying  her  to  the  grave  of  her 
dead  husband  and  standing  awk¬ 
wardly  by  while  she  had  a  good  cry. 

There  was  not  a  soul  in  the  garrison 
who  did  not  know  that  Ned  loved  her. 
By  common  consent  it  had  been  agreed 
that  when  she  could  sufficiently  re¬ 
cover  from  the  shock  of  her  husband’s 
death,  Ned  was  the  proper  man  to 
marry  her.  But  that  time  did  not  seem 
to  approach.  Never  before  was  woman 
so  faithful  to  the  memory  of  her  first 
love.  Ned  knew  this  and  spoke  not. 
And  the  garrison  and  whole  regiment 
understood  the  tender  delicacy  that 
forbade  him  to  speak. 

[JJ] 


V 


AS  for  Nakitano,  they  had  chased 
him  for  weeks  and  months;  but 
it  had  been  impossible  to  capture  him, 
even  when  aided  by  the  angry  mem¬ 
bers  of  his  own  tribe.  He  lived  in  the 
hills  an  outcast  and  an  outlaw.  But 
he  did  not  go  far  away.  The  woods 
supplied  him  with  all  he  wanted  save 
ammunition  and  an  occasional  knife  or 
cooking  utensil.  When  he  needed 
these  he  went  quietly  down  among  the 
tepees  of  his  own  people  at  night  and 
stole  them.  Sometimes  his  camp  fire 

[34\ 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


could  be  seen  far  off  in  the  mountains. 
At  times  it  would  be  seen  so  near  that 
a  troop  of  cavalry  would  be  ordered 
out  in  the  middle  of  the  night  to  at¬ 
tempt  his  capture.  They  never  suc¬ 
ceeded.  When  they  arrived  at  his 
camp  the  ashes  of  his  fire  would  be  all 
that  remained  to  tell  of  his  presence, 
and,  being  on  foot,  he  left  little  or  no 
trail. 

He  even  went  so  far  as  to  make  fires 
on  purpose  to  draw  out  the  men  from 
the  garrison.  Eventually  they  gave 
up  the  attempt  to  capture  him  alto¬ 
gether.  As  the  years  passed  the  tribal 
hatred  cooled,  and  in  the  course  of  time 
he  gradually  came  into  communication 

Usl 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


with  his  f  ello ws.  F rom  occasional  vis¬ 
itors  of  his  tribe  he  learned  of  the  birth 
of  a  son  to  the  white  woman  in  the  fort. 
One  night  a  sentinel  fired  at  some  mov¬ 
ing  object  that  failed  to  respond  to  his 
challenge.  The  guard  turned  out,  as 
a  matter  of  course,  and  a  hunt  was  in¬ 
stituted;  but  it  was  unsuccessful. 
Perhaps  Nakitano  did  see  the  boy. 

If  Ned  Savage  failed  to  win  the 
place  he  sought  in  the  heart  of  his 
friend’s  widow,  he  did  not  fail  to  win 
the  affection  of  her  son.  To  young 
Bob  he  was  a  father  in  everything  that 
he  could  be.  When  the  boy  was  a 
baby  he  wheeled  him  in  a  carriage. 
He  taught  him  the  delights  of  riding 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


on  an  adult  knee  and  of  tearing  out 
adult  hair  by  the  handful.  He  made 
him  as  many  presents  as  he  dared,  and 
sang  to  him  most  inappropriate  songs 
about  “not  going  home  till  morning” 
and  “filling  the  flowing  bowl.”  Ned 
knew  no  others,  and  they  pleased  the 
boy. 

When  the  boy  appeared  in  short 
dresses  and  began  to  understand,  in  his 
beautiful,  innocent,  child  way,  some¬ 
thing  of  the  nature  of  things  around 
him,  Ned  commenced  his  instruction  in 
the  art  and  science  of  language.  Poor 
fellow,  he  blushed  violently  when, 
after  three  weeks’  hard  work  to  get  the 
youngster  to  say  “soldier,”  that  young 

[j?] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 

worthy  looked  up  into  his  face  and 
said  “papa”  with  perfect  distinct¬ 
ness. 

Ned  soon  had  the  joy  known  only 
to  fathers  and  foster  fathers,  of  watch¬ 
ing  the  little  mind  develop  with  the 
amazing  rapidity  that  it  does  in  even 
an  ordinary  child.  He  heard  the  first 
request  of  the  boy  to  be  lifted  “way  up 
to  the  sky.”  Once,  when  young  “Bob” 
was  sick  with  a  fever  and  just  rallying 
back  from  the  danger  line,  he  called 
out  in  the  impatient  way  of  a  sick 
child,  “I  want  my  papa” ;  and  then  it 
was  that  Ned,  watching  anxiously  by 
the  side  of  the  boy’s  small  bed,  had  to 
pretend  that  he  was  the  boy’s  actual 

[J*] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


“papa”  before  the  woman  he  loved,  be¬ 
fore  the  boy’s  mother. 

Christmas  was  approaching,  and  the 
Twelfth  had  not  yet  moved.  It  was 
the  first  Christmas  that  young  Bob 
could  entirely  comprehend,  and  Ned 
had  made  great  preparations  for  his 
celebration  of  the  event.  He  had  sent 
to  the  East  for  toys  picked  out  of  an 
illustrated  catalogue;  and  he  spent 
much  of  his  time  telling  the  boy  about 
Santa  Claus,  his  workshop  far  away 
over  the  snow,  and  his  wonderful  team 
of  reindeer  that  skip  around  from  one 
house  to  another  all  over  the  world  in  a 
single  night.  It  pleased  him  to  see  the 
wide  open,  wondering  eyes  of  the  boy 

\.39\ 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


as  he  listened.  It  would  please  him, 
he  knew,  to  see  those  eyes  open  still 
wider  when  he  saw  the  presents  them¬ 
selves. 

“I  want  to  send  my  papa  a  present,” 
the  boy  said  suddenly  one  day. 

“Well,”  said  Ned,  hard  pushed  for 
means  of  expressage,  “I  suppose  that 
can  be  done  by  sending  it  to  Santa 
Claus  marked  Tor  Papa/  ” 

“Where  is  Santa  Claus?” 

“Away  out  over  the  snow,”  Ned  an¬ 
swered,  unconsciously  waving  his  arm 
in  the  direction  of  the  snow  clad  hills. 
“What  do  you  want  to  send  him?” 

“My  bestest  toy,”  said  the  boy. 

“Well,  bring  it  here  and  we’ll  wrap 

U°\ 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 

it  up  and  mark  it;  and  to-morrow  night 
I’ll  take  it  to  Santa  Claus.  The  next 
night,  you  know,  is  Christmas  Eve, 
when  Santa  Claus  delivers  all  the  pres¬ 
ents,  and  I’ll  get  it  to  him  just  in 
time.” 

The  boy  rose  promptly,  went  to  an¬ 
other  room,  and  brought  forth  his 
“bestest  toy.”  Ned  could  have 
jumped  for  joy.  The  “bestest  toy” 
was  an  extremely  crude  hook  and  lad¬ 
der  truck  which  Ned  had  made  with 
his  wonderful  knife  from  several 
priceless  shingles.  It  was  duly 
wrapped  up  and  marked  “For  Papa,” 
and  put  away  to  be  called  for  on  the 
following  evening. 

O] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 

On  the  following  evening  Savage 
forgot  the  package  and  did  not  notice 
the  disappointed,  inquiring  eyes  of  the 
boy.  Something  more  important  was 
on  his  mind.  Orders  had  come  that 
day  for  the  Twelfth  to  prepare  to 
move  early  in  the  coming  month,  and 
Savage  had  made  up  his  mind  that  the 
time  had  come  for  him  to  ask  the  one 
great  question  upon  which  his  future 
life  would  hinge.  But  he  could  not 
ask  it.  Bob  Roberts’  widow  was  on  the 
point  of  tears  again  at  the  thought  of 
the  coming  separation  and  the  difficul¬ 
ties  it  might  mean  for  her.  All  he 
could  do  was  to  cheer  her  up  as  best  he 
could;  and  when  he  left  her  that  night 

[>] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


two  little  disappointed  eyes  saw  him 
leave  the  house  without  asking  for  the 
package  marked  “For  Papa.” 

That  night  a  very  small  boy,  who 
had  just  learned  to  put  on  his  own 
clothes,  accomplished  the  feat  alone 
and  unaided,  though  his  eyes  were 
blinded  with  tears  and  his  little  mouth 
set  hard. 


[«i 


VI 


EARLY  the  next  morning  the 
startling  discovery  was  made 
that  little  Bob  Roberts  was  missing 
from  his  home.  The  tracks  of  his  little 
feet  could  be  seen  in  the  light  carpet  of 
snow,  bearing  off  to  the  woods;  but 
these  could  be  followed  only  a  short 
distance.  Snow  was  again  falling, 
and  the  tracks  were  soon  obliterated. 

A  party  of  volunteers,  under  the 
leadership  of  Ned  Savage,  started  to 
hunt  for  the  boy  as  soon  as  his  disap¬ 
pearance  was  discovered.  He  alone 
U4\ 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


had  an  inkling  as  to  the  boy’s  idea  of 
going  out  into  the  night.  With  pain 
he  remembered  the  package  marked 
“For  Papa,”  which  he  had  entirely  for¬ 
gotten  the  night  before,  and  a  rapid 
search  revealed  the  fact  of  its  absence. 
Then  Savage  knew  that  the.  boy  had 
started  with  it  to  find  Santa  Claus  “off 
in  the  snow.”  He  realized  instantly 
that  his  own  fault  had  put  the  boy’s 
life  in  danger.  The  hills  were  full  of 
bears  and  wolves,  driven  by  hunger 
down  from  the  mountains.  N akitano, 
too,  was  there  somewhere. 

When  word  came  that  the  volun¬ 
teers  had  lost  even  the  track  of  the 
boy’s  tiny  feet  owing  to  the  new  fall  of 

I \45l 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


snow,  the  colonel  had  “boots  and  sad¬ 
dles”  sounded,  and  sent  out  every  cav¬ 
alryman  in  the  post  on  a  systematic 
hunt.  After  that  he  offered  a  reward 
for  the  recovery  of  the  boy  large 
enough  to  send  every  Indian  on  the 
reservation  hot  into  the  hills  on  a  hunt 
on  his  own  account.  But  the  day 
passed  with  no  tidings  from  the  search¬ 
ers.  The  afternoon  wore  on,  and  still 
no  tidings.  Women  wept  and  men 
dared  not  look  each  other  in  the  face. 
Hunger  alone  would  have  worn  the 
little  fellow  out  by  that  time,  and 
after  that — 

It  was  a  bitterly  sad  Christmas  Eve 
at  Fort  Chiricahua.  As  night  fell  the 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


searchers  began  to  return,  worn  out 
themselves  with  fatigue  and  hunger. 
It  was  late  at  night  when  the  last  re¬ 
turned — and  that  last  was  Savage. 
He  was  worn  out,  haggard  and  weak. 
Long  through  the  night  he  sat  with  the 
wife  of  his  dead  chum,  waiting  the 
dawn.  Suddenly  there  was  a  peculiar, 
gnawing  sound  at  the  door.  Savage 
recognized  it  instantly.  An  Indian 
was  scraping  his  finger  nail  across  the 
wood — the  tribal  method  of  knocking. 

Savage  bounded  from  his  chair  and 
dashed  to  the  door.  He  opened  it  with 
a  jerk  that  nearly  tore  it  from  its 
hinges,  and  there  on  the  step  lay  the 
form  of  the  lost  boy,  soundly  sleeping, 

[47] 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


snugly  wrapped  in  an  old  red  blanket. 
It  was  an  Indian  blanket,  but  no  In¬ 
dian  was  in  sight  to  claim  the  reward. 
And  that  was  more  than  passing 
strange. 

A  moment  later,  and  young  Bob, 
sleeping  smiling,  was  in  the  arms  of  his 
frenzied  mother,  hysterical  with  de¬ 
light. 

“Bob  saw  Santa  Claus,”  said  he 
pleasantly.  “He  Indian — like  others 
— lives  all  alone,  ’way  off  in  snow.” 
And  then  he  fell  asleep  again  on  his 
mother’s  breast. 

Savage  bent  over  them  a  moment 
later.  His  hand  caught  a  small  brass 
tag  in  the  shape  of  a  half  circle  that 


A  CHRISTMAS  GIFT 


had  been  hung  about  the  boy’s  neck. 
On  it  was  stamped  “12  B.” 

But  Nakitano  had  brought  back  a 
still  more  valuable  gift  than  the  little 
wanderer  that  Christmas  morning. 
He  had  brought  realization  to  the 
quiet  eyed  mother.  And  so  it  hap¬ 
pened  that,  for  the  second  time,  she 
went  into  quarters  with  the  Twelfth 
United  States  cavalry  a  bride. 


THE  END 


U9\ 


